


Boats Against the Current

by LittleMulattoKitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied Slash, Polyamory, Post-War, slash side pairings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMulattoKitten/pseuds/LittleMulattoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-WarAU Theo's been working at a pub in Knockturn Alley to stay busy since the war. With his roommate out of the country, his life was starting to look pretty mundane. That was, of course, until Hermione showed up. "What universe do you live in?" She asked. One where there are little veins of gold in your eyes, he thought. Theomione. Eventually Poly w/ Draco</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firewhiskey Beginnings

He was scrubbing a particularly vile spot of _something_ from the bar when she walked in. Magic had the oddest of limitations sometimes, and whatever concoction had been spilled on the counter earlier in the day had long since dried by the time he’d come in for his late shift. Thankfully, he wasn’t as helplessly ignorant of muggle remedies as the ‘good guys’ would paint him. Bar Keeper’s Friend was an aptly named product; of that he was certain. He was not, however, quite sure just what Hermione Granger was doing in this grimy hovel. Alone, no less.

She sat at his bar, at the very end of it, but she still purposefully chose to be served by him. Not that he was advocating for his coworkers – at all – but still, she was _Hermione Granger_.

“Aren’t you a tad too pleasant to be down here?” He asked, trying to keep his voice as friendly and commending as possible.

Her smirk disarmed him, hesitant though it was. “Aren’t you a tad too aristocratic for muggle cleaning solutions?”

He smiled and it was as easy as it was sincere. “Never bought into that rot, love,” he said, tossing the sullied cloth into the nearby bucket on the floor full of its predecessors. “Certainly an entire society can’t be obsolete, lesser even, if they’ve managed to produce a powerful, pretty little witch like you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, playfully, and he found himself noting the various colors the firelight brought out in them. “You’re trouble, Mr. Nott,” she teased. “But decidedly less awful than people assumed in school.”

“Oh, I was a prat at Hogwarts,” he assured her, still grinning. “Now, I’m no Malfoy by any stretch of the imagination, but my patience for our peers was next to nonexistent.”

“You always seemed happiest in Arithmancy,” she said, her pretty eyes still full of mirth. “In sixth year, at least.”

He dimpled at her. “Perks of advanced courses, darling, you only share the class with capable people.”

She smirked. “Theodore Nott just called me capable. I may faint.”

“And you haven’t even had a drink yet. I think we may have to redefine ‘lightweight’,” he teased. “What’ll it be, love?”

“Firewhiskey’s fine, thank you.”

He discretely looked her over while he made her drink. With no school robes to hide her figure, the shallow part of his mind had a chance to appreciate how lovely she was. When they were in school, she was a fantasy he’d never allowed himself to dwell on. Between their house rivalries, his own house’s various prejudices, his father, and the war, any and all ideas of possibly courting the pretty muggleborn before him had died before they’d fully formed. But now she was sitting in front of him drinking firewhiskey, flirting with him, and looking far too tempting to be safe, especially in an underground pub in Knockturn Alley. Nevermind her war heroine status.

“What are you doing down here, pretty witch?” He asked her. “Shouldn’t you be sprawled out on a gaudy chaise somewhere being fed grapes by your doting dolts?”

She almost choked on her whiskey. “Harry and Ron, worshiping me?” she snorted. “What universe do you live in?”

 _One where there are little veins of gold in your eyes_ , he thought. “I thought you and Weasley were…ah…an item?” He managed.

She quirked a brow. “The stressors of war make a lot of things seem like a good idea. Including, but not limited to, dating someone with the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter. “Ahem, condolences, I suppose?” She snorted again and mumbled something in the negative. “I do hope things ended cleanly.”

Just not cleanly enough to leave any hope of their relationship being rekindled, of course. He wondered if there was a muggle product for removing emotional attachments. Naturally, his curiosities were purely for her sake and not at all selfish in nature.

“He abandoned us for a while when we were on the run, you know,” she said suddenly, staring pensively into her whiskey as she spoke. “Hindsight and all that. Doesn’t particularly matter. We’re all adults, all war veterans. Can’t exactly get together on a Saturday night like ordinary chums with that sort of history, you know?”

He did. “I’m sorry, Granger.”

She blessed him with another one of those smiles, even though this one was slightly tinged with mourning for her once best friends. “If we can graduate school, we should be able to graduate to first names too.”

He gave her a small smile. “Let’s start over, shall we? I’m Theo.”

She shook his outstretched hand. “Hermione.”

He brought her fingers to his lips, surging with triumph when she blushed. “It’s a pleasure, Hermione.”

“Oh, no,” she said quietly. “I think the pleasure’s all mine, Theo.”

~~~~~~~~~

She came back two nights later, arriving a little earlier than she had the first time. He was anxious. He’d been given a slightly earlier shift, one that meant he could leave thirty minutes after she’d arrived. After their two-and-a-half-hour chat last time, he wasn’t eager to be removed from her presence so soon. But would his company be welcome if he…if he stayed?

“Hello, Theo,” she greeted brightly. She was the only thing in this dingy hell hole that shined. She was foreign, an outsider, and, perhaps for the first time, not because of her parentage.

“Hermione,” he returned with a smile. “You look lovely.”

She did. Her robes weren’t fully closed, revealing a very flattering pair of muggle jeans and a snug black halter number to his eyes. The gentleman in him didn’t stare, but the worthless shallow sod in him was in heaven.

“This?” She questioned, glancing down at herself in honest confusion. “Get your eyes checked, Nott.”

“I thought we’d graduated to first names, pretty witch?” He quipped.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Trouble.”

“I am?” He grinned at her heatless glare.

She asked about his week. He asked about hers. He made her a drink. She sipped it while they talked. All too soon, the last thirty minutes of his shift flew by. He frowned when he glanced up at the clock.

“What’s wrong?” She asked him, her eyes betraying her worry.

He sighed. “I,” he said, “Am officially free of the employment obligations bestowed upon me today.”

Tension danced between them as she chewed her lip and he tried to think of a way to extend their time together.

“Well, Theo, since you’re free,” she said hesitantly, “Can I buy you a drink?”

He blinked at her, too stunned to be pleased. “Absolutely not, but I’d be forever indebted if you could allow me the honor.”

Bemusement colored her features, but a slight grin had returned. “Sexist,” she accused.

“Gentleman,” he corrected.

He lost track of time throughout the evening, though he did dutifully keep an eye on the number of drinks she’d consumed and managed to keep her from getting completely pissed.

She lived alone, he learned, just far enough away from Diagon Alley to give her some semblance of privacy, but not so far that the commute was ridiculous. She saw Potter and Weasley maybe once a month, usually less, rarely more, to his great pleasure, and spent her days however she pleased.

“I did attempt honest employment,” she told him, “But with the heroine status and hero worship, it really became more trouble than it was worth. Occasionally I get a personal research project funded and if my findings benefit the ministry, I profit. Not that I need it.”

“Welcome to a life of privilege,” he’d told her with a snort. “It’s rather boring, isn’t it?”

She had agreed.

They talked about her projects and about his life immediately after the war. She found out he roomed with Draco Malfoy, but that the prick was in Paris indefinitely with his mother.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Theo assured her, “He’s an arse, but I’ve known him since I was two, so I suppose I’ve built up a tolerance.”

She tactfully asked him about their relationship. He shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ve caught on to this, but most of the pureblood families are a bunch of hypocrites,” he said. “They act all high, mighty, and conservative, but in reality, Abraxas Malfoy was bisexual and had two – um…what’s the male term for a ‘mistress’? Partners? – two whatevers and his wife was gay, so she had Salazar knows how many mistresses.”

She’d giggled. “Lucius Malfoy’s parents were both…?”

He raised a brow at her and grinned, “Like grandfather, like grandson. Mine were no better, but my mother’s side was less skilled in hiding it, I suppose. We’re two bisexual peas in a pod, pretty witch, but we stopped dating months ago. Ended things before they got messy. Just roomies now. And friends.”

She blushed slightly and said, “I’ve never…ah…experimented, I suppose? But my natural inclination is, well, _inclined_ towards beautiful creatures such as yourself.”

He grinned and it was slightly predatory. “Hermione Granger called me pretty,” he teased. “I may faint.”

He told her about the flat he’d bought in a small forward thinking pureblood district and how Draco had completely taken over, turning the thing into a masterpiece of modern _muggle_ architecture. All clean angles, matte painted steel, glass, and concrete. It was beautiful and crisp and non-traditional. He loved that flat and wondered if maybe she’d like a tour sometime.

She asked him if sometime meant a few moments from now.

He said it certainly could if the pretty witch wished it to.

She wished.

~~~~~~~~~

His face was pressed into something warm, voluminous, and soft when he slowly woke from the best wet dream of his life. A deep breath filled his nostrils with a delicious citrus and vanilla scent that he greedily inhaled again as he burrowed deeper into the source. His heart stopped and soared simultaneously when he opened his eyes and found himself snuggled up with a certain curly-haired witch.

He hadn’t been dreaming. She had come home with him the night before.

She was spooned against him and – Circe help him – was equally naked as he was, providing him further proof that the night before had, indeed, been real. Even the wildest of the fantasies he’d entertained about her during sixth year did not compare to his partially alcohol-hazed memories from the night before.

The shallow part of him entertained sending his ex-boyfriend a note and informing the prick that he owed Theo twenty galleons. Not because Theo had gotten the witch they’d both lusted after into bed fair and square, but because the witch in question was _not_ as demure in bed as Draco had assumed. Far from it.

A slow smile made its way onto his face as he remembered discovering a few itty bitty tattoos and the discrete onyx stud in her tongue. How he hadn’t noticed the piercing before was beyond him. Maybe it was a newer addition.

He took his time carefully detangling from her and slowly slipped out of the warm bed with no small amount of reluctance. But he needed to use the loo and he was determined to make her breakfast. Last night would only be a one night stand if she wanted it to be. He had other plans, however. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table before standing.

The door didn’t creak when he slipped out and, not for the first time, he found himself thankful for the wonderful oddity known as the modern muggle. Hardware stores and WD-40 were treasures to someone who had grown up in a manor that was as old as time itself. Most of the flooring in the flat was smooth concrete, but the halls and living room were white-washed hardwood and it never ceased to amaze him that the boards didn’t squeak. Neither did the faucets. And he couldn’t hear the plumbing within the walls either.

After visiting the other side of the flat to use Draco’s bathroom - as not to wake his guest by using his own facilities - Theo made his way into the kitchen and started setting out the things he needed to make them a decent breakfast. Muffins, he decided, were always good and there was still a pack of bacon in the fridge. He got to work.

He wasn’t sure when she’d woken up or how she managed to be so quiet that he didn’t notice her until he was almost finished cooking. He jumped slightly, mentally cursing himself as he did, when he turned around and found her sitting on the other side of the island. She was laying on the countertop, her head resting on her crossed arms as she watched him cook. The first thing he noticed was that she had tamed those sweet smelling curls into a thick braid which rested over her shoulder.

“Morning,” he said a beat too late, before he turned back around to dish their omelets onto plates.

“Good morning,” she returned. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, you know. I’d have been content with tea and toast.”

He made a noise of disagreement in the back of this throat. “That would be abysmal morning after etiquette, love. Besides,” he turned off the burner and slid her plate across the island, “I wanted to.”

She smiled a bit as he reached into a drawer and slid her a fork as well. “Etiquette, huh? Is there a book on this somewhere? I’d like to read it.”

His lips twitched into a partial smirk as he opened the oven door so he could levitate the pan of muffins and the cookie sheet with their bacon onto the stove top. “Yes. _Manners, the 9 th Edition_ by Decent People.”

She snorted, almost choking on her food. “Fair enough,” she said. Then, after pausing briefly, “It’s odd seeing someone else blend muggle and magical things. Pleasant, but odd.”

The strips of bacon sizzled loudly as he tried to come up with something to say.

“I’ve never been the type to believe things blindly, even things I was told from birth,” he said eventually. “I learned not to question my father’s beliefs out loud very quickly, but I didn’t believe him because his arguments were weak.” He walked around the island and moved one of the stools to the other side so he could sit across from her while they ate. “You were a big part of that, actually,” he admitted hesitantly. “Muggleborns are weaker than we are, they told us. They’re vulgar, uncouth, barbaric, unintelligent. And every time I heard that shite all I could think was ‘Hermione Granger is the top of our class and she’s muggleborn, Father, explain to me how she fits in your bigoted agenda.’”

“Books and cleverness,” she muttered, somewhat bitterly with a shrug, “None of it mattered. I still didn’t – don’t – belong. People tolerate me because of my part in the war, but it changes nothing. Now I’m just a socially acceptable oddity.”

“You’re perfect,” he said quietly, staring at her with a small amount of concern. “Hermione, you don’t understand. We had to be brats in school for appearances, but we -  me, Draco, _Pansy_ , hell even Blaise – we all knew and acknowledged you as an equal, a better, even. Sometimes begrudgingly, sometimes it was laced with envy and jealousy, but…I…” He faltered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “If Voldemort had never happened and my father hadn’t been the man he was, we would have been all over you, sweetness. Pansy would have been trying to convince you to run away and be gay with her forever. Blaise and Draco would have been throwing expensive things at you, following behind you at Hogsmeade and buying everything you glanced at twice. You were, for all intents and purposes, exactly what all of us were told to look for in a partner, only the war did happen, so we were forced to dismiss you because of your heritage.”

She was deeply confused by the time he’d finished his little speech, and for a moment he worried that their budding friendship – or whatever this was – wasn’t ready for the admission he’d given. Thankfully, he was wrong.

“What about you?” She asked gently. “Where would you have been, if I’m even entertaining the idea that Draco Malfoy would have been chasing my skirt in any universe?”

He grinned at her with a false sense of bravado as his heart staccatoed in his chest. “I would have waited for you to go to a bookstore and when Draco and Blaise inevitably started to argue about who was going to buy you what book, I’d have asked you to tell me about whatever book you were currently reading over lunch.” He paused briefly, looking at her smile and realizing, quite suddenly, that his answer had made her happy. “Or dinner,” he added, only he wasn’t talking about alternate universes anymore.

“Dinner,” she repeated, still smiling, “I’d like that.”

“Tomorrow night?” He asked, “Six-ish?”

“Sure. What should I wear?” She asked.

He dimpled at her. “Something muggle, pretty witch. Casual.”

When she left after breakfast, after he’d gotten a sweet kiss goodbye at the door, Theo turned to his empty flat and slowly let out a breath. He hadn’t been this excited for something since…ever. Grinning and probably looking as foolish as he felt, he flicked his wand at the dishes to get them washing themselves and made his way to his shower.

Tomorrow. He’d see the pretty witch again tomorrow…


	2. Date Night and Dessert

She knocked on the door to his flat at exactly five-fifty-eight, interrupting his anxious pacing around the living room, though that was probably a good thing. It took every drop of Slytherin in his blood to put on a calm smile when he opened the door. 

Fuck, she was adorable. 

She was wearing an ivory to sky blue ombre sweater and a pair of dark wash jeans that agreed with her. And with him. Circe, her arse looked excellent, but it was those eyes that swam with gold and bronze, and her shy smile, that really did him in. 

"Hey, pretty witch," he murmured as he brushed his lips against her cheek. 

She leaned into him slightly, blushing, and responded with a quiet, "Hi." 

He gave her a small smile, one that he hoped conveyed that he was just as unsure about this as she seemed to be. But Salazar, he was excited as well. She made him feel like a drunk Hufflepuff, all warm and in need of a proper cuddle. It was annoying in the best possible way. 

Besides, snakes huddle together for warmth, right? Draco was the cuddliest little shit alive, though he would deny it adamantly, even while in the act. Blaise was with that Lovegood girl and he couldn't keep his hands off her. 

Theo decided his masculinity and house pride were worth the risk, though they were probably perfectly safe in Hermione's hands. 

"Ready to go?" He asked her 

She nodded, still giving him that shy little smile, and he put a hand on the small of her back as he guided her out the door. Smirking as he took note of her practical combat-esque boots, he gave her a warning and apparated them away. 

They would have to walk a little bit to get to the restaurant Theo had in mind, but that gave him an excuse to stand close to her on the sidewalk. In a moment of pure impulsive stupidity – not bravery, because he certainly didn't consider himself a brave man – he threaded his fingers through hers and held his breath. She didn't pull away or look at him, but she squeezed his fingers. He exhaled quietly, heart pounding. 

He should accept his fate, maybe buy something yellow and black next time he was out. Hug a few trees or something while he was at it. 

 _The Puffs hadn't really been that bad, had they?_ he wondered worriedly. Mentally, he scolded himself. Snakes. Huddles. Warmth. 

"So," he began, "What did you end up doing yesterday?" 

She hadn't stopped by The Rotten Apple - the bar – which had disappointed him far more than he should have let it. A very cruel part of his mind wondered if she happened to spend the day with Potter, or, even worse, Weasley. And an even crueler part wondered if Weasley had kept her from visiting him... 

He really needed to get ahold of himself. They weren't even really a thing. Yet, he hoped, but he still didn't have any business being angry about who she spent time with. 

"Um," she murmured hesitantly, worrying him further. "Harry and I meet for tea on Saturdays, which is fine. Ginny usually comes along. Sometimes Luna drops by. It's just to chat and stay in touch. Say hello. But...I guess Harry feels like Ron and I need to find even ground again..." 

It didn't sound like Potter's plan had worked out well and he told her so. 

"It didn't," she confirmed sadly. "Ron's always been impulsive and his emotions run away with him. Funny how many opinions a person has about you come to light under those conditions." 

Theo's jaw tensed. Weasley was a tool. Hell, Draco was the prat of prats and he hadn't – wouldn't – do such a thing to Theo even if their relationship hasn't ended peacefully. 

"What kind of things," he asked slowly, dreading the answer. 

She shrugged. "Nothing new, really. It was basically a repeat of the night I left. Prude. Know-it-all. Frigid. Whore. Boring. Poorly dressed." 

Theo raked his eyes over her outfit once more. 

"Weasley take a few hexes to the brain during the final battle?" He asked. "For one, whore negates prude and frigid, so maybe he should check a dictionary before he starts pulling slurs out of his arse. And two, what the hell is wrong with how you dress? You look comfortable, not to mention adorable, and you've never worn anything less than practical..." Theo's annoyed frown deepened. "Sounds like Weasley wants a slag, not a girlfriend." 

"Or both. Simultaneously," she mumbled. 

Theo stopped walking and their joined hands caused her to stop as well. He could see the restaurant up the road, but that could wait. 

"Weasley fucking _cheated_?" He asked, too stunned, too angry to think clearly. "On _you_ of all people? Is he fucking insane?" 

She blinked at him with wide eyes and tinted cheeks. "We had classes together," she said quietly. "You know I've never been all that concerned with how I look, or-" 

"You look fine," he interrupted adamantly. "More than fine. You did then and you do now, Granger. Circe, half our year wanted up your skirt in school! _Viktor Krum_ took you to the Yule Ball!" 

When she didn’t respond and her expression retained its poorly concealed misery, he tugged her forward. He released her hand to wind his arms around her – coil them. He coiled them. Like a _snake_. - and held her tightly. 

"Weasley can go fuck himself," he sighed, pressing his nose into her pretty curls. Citrus. Vanilla. Hermione. "Though I suppose I ought to send him a gift basket. If he hadn't fucked up I never would have gotten the chance to..." 

His throat closed. He was telling her too much. She'd think he was nutters. Who watches someone for an entire school year without talking to them? If he was being honest with himself, he'd paid her plenty of attention before that, sixth year was just when he realized he wanted to ask her to go to Hogsmeade with him and couldn't. 

"I'd have been your friend," she muttered, "In school I mean. If...it had been possible..." 

He squeezed her. "My very own little Gryffindor," he teased gently. "I already told you, I wouldn't have stopped at friends. I'd have outsmarted Blaise and Draco at the first available opportunity." 

"No road blocks now," she said quietly.  

He kissed her for a long time. Or maybe it was only a few seconds, but he didn't want to let her go and the arseholes across the street whistling at them could take his two fingered suggestion and mount it. She hadn’t been able to ignore them, however, and pulled away from him embarrassed. 

"Come on, pretty witch," he said, reclaiming her hand and tugging her towards their destination. "You're about to have the best burger of your life. You won't even remember the name Weasley by the time we leave." 

It turned out that, while she had never been to this particular restaurant, the cluster of streets and shops was actually quite close to her flat, so she knew the area. 

"I've been meaning to come here actually," she told him brightly as they were ushered to a quiet booth in the back - a booth that had been promptly and discretely encased in privacy charms. All traces of her earlier melancholy and insecurity were gone for the time being. "It just seemed silly to come somewhere like this alone." 

Theo silently praised himself. "Well, what a lucky choice on my part," he said with a grin. "The portion sizes are pretty big though, so we should probably share unless you want something completely different from my usual. But I don't think you will." 

She was nearly salivating when he finished describing the bacon wrapped mac n cheese bites and the Chef's signature bacon burger. 

"Literally the least healthy thing you will ever eat," he told her. "But it's amazing. Hard to eat, but worth the struggle." 

She raised an eyebrow at him, grinning. "Challenge accepted." 

They ordered cokes and Theo added them each a water as well. 

"Trust me, you'll want it," he'd promised as their server took their menus and promised to be back with their drinks shortly. 

"Did anything decent happen yesterday?" He asked her. "After your unfortunate tea date?" 

She shrugged. "Not really. My current research project is looking like a dead end, so I was basically going in circles reviewing my notes all day." 

He leaned forward, shaming his ancestors by putting his elbows on the table, and pressed his thumbs against his bottom lip. "Tell me," he ordered gently. He wanted to know. He wanted to see her brilliant mind at work up close. What problem was giving Hermione Granger a run for her money? 

She flushed slightly and looked away. "I... I’m trying to find an explanation for muggleborns..." 

When it became clear that he wasn't judging her and that he was still regarding her with raw, honest interest, she took off.  

Which came first, muggles or wizards? How did muggle scientific and historic discoveries factor into to wizarding history? If wizard kind came first, then were muggleborns simply a manifestation of genetics that had been too weak to show up for generations? If muggles came first, was magic a biological mutation? Why were there so many creatures linked to magic, and some 'normal' ones, but not all animals could live in both worlds? 

She talked and he listened, chiming in with the occasional question for clarification or to wonder if she'd looked at this theory from that angle yet and what were the results. He was fascinated not only by the subject matter, but by her ability to store _so much_ information in the pretty head of hers.  

He and Draco had entertained deep discussions on some of the points she had already explored. He's also had similar conversations with Blaise and Pansy. No one had answers, but if anyone could find them, it was the witch before him. 

"I'd love to see your work," he said earnestly, glancing out of the corner of his eye at their approaching waitress. He could smell the bacon from here. "It would be amazing if you found a concrete answer. The impact your project could have on all the prejudice...it's dizzying to think about." 

Her uncomfortable-yet-pleased blush made him wonder if this was the first time someone had showed genuine interest in one of her research projects. Then he remembered who her friends were and decided that yes, it probably was. 

She gawked at the absurdity of their food as Theo assured the waitress that they were fine and if she could maybe bring them a new bottle of ketchup for their chips. She took the empty bottle from the table with an apologetic smile and promised to bring a new one shortly. 

"There is more bacon than burger on this burger," Hermione said, her voice a blend of impressed and daunted.  

He chuckled at her. "No one is expecting you to pick this beast up and eat it, pretty witch. We have steak knives for a reason." 

He shoved the plate of macaroni bites towards her, taking over the task of sawing their entrée into manageable pieces. Stabbing a forkful of thick bacon, grease, cheese, beef, and bun, he held it out for her. 

"Allow me to change your life," he grinned as she leaned forward to accept his offering. He tried not to squirm at the sight of her lips wrapping around the utensil. Lucky fork. 

She moaned low in her throat and the sound almost made him shudder. He wouldn't be able to survive the rest of dinner if she kept that up. Circe. 

"Fuck me, that's good," she said after swallowing. 

"I'd love to," he replied instantly. "But I think it would be a crime to let all this bacon go to waste." 

She threw him an impish grin as she grabbed another macaroni bite. "Good point. Sustenance first. Exercise later." 

He kept working on the burger, but his eyes traveled up to meet her own. "That sounds like a promise, pretty witch." 

Of course, she chose that exact moment to deliberately pop the appetizer into her mouth. His hands may have stilled for a few moments while she deliberately took her time sucking cheese and bacon grease off her fingers. 

He smirked at her. "Naughty." 

"I am?" She threw back, echoing their conversation from a few nights prior. 

She would, without a doubt, be the death of him. 

~~~~~~~~~ 

The night had cooled considerably by the time they left the restaurant. Against Hermione's protests, the moment Theo noticed her poorly concealed shiver, he shrugged out of his jacket and draped the heavy leather over her shoulders. She all but drowned in the garment and he realized how much he liked seeing her in his clothes. 

Since she knew the area a bit better than he did, they wandered the various streets for a while in an effort to aid the digestion of the ludicrous amount of fat and salt they'd consumed. 

The silence between them was comfortable and once again he'd claimed her hand for his own.  

The evening crowd had shifted as families with sleepy children departed, replaced by the thinner clusters of younger generations. If Theo tried hard enough, he could forget the world, forget magic, and pretend he and Hermione were no different than the other couples he saw mingling about on the streets. They were just two normal people here, in the muggle world. Not the son of a Death Eater and a war heroine. 

He wished they were just another couple on the street out for a night on the town. Would he feel like he deserved her, if their lives had been different? Probably not. Even without magic Hermione Granger would still be brilliant and he would still be Theodore – Just Theodore. He was a Slytherin – a term now synonymous with war and hatred – and a pureblood - 'prejudiced' according to popular opinion. Even if this...thing between them became _a_ _thing,_ once people started to find out about them all hell would break loose.  

That was part of why he'd taken her to a muggle restaurant. That was why he panicked a little bit when she came to the bar. So far it seemed that none of the other patrons –  criminals, really – cared to blab about who Theo flirted with, cared to tell their friends that he and Hermione had left the bar together two nights ago. 

Let the Prophet run him through the mud again, he couldn't bring himself to care about how thoroughly his father had already tarnished their family name, but he'd be damned if they brought her down with him. 

"Dessert?" Hermione asked quietly, pulling him from his unpleasant thoughts. "My place?" 

He smiled down at her, his stomach doing a little flip at the sweet, shy expression she was giving him. Circe, this witch made him happy. He'd give up and buy a yellow scarf next time he was in Diagon Alley... 

"Do you really think it's wise to follow up that much saturated fat with, what? Ice cream?" He asked teasingly. 

She flushed and seemed to find something across the street very interesting. "I had something a bit more movement-oriented in mind, personally." 

Oh. 

 _Oh._  

"I like dessert," he said quietly. "Lead the way, pretty witch." 

The apparition point she typically used was nearby, and though such means of travel on a full stomach was, perhaps, not the wisest idea, they arrived outside her apartment building without any splinching. Or loss of dinner. 

When the nausea passed, Theo looked around. The area seemed nice enough, but the building before him gave him pause. He questioned the stability of the building as he wondered why this little war heroine of his wasn't living in a palace somewhere. And what on Earth was going on with the top floor? There were strange angles along the west wall, only on the top level, and Hermione chuckled when he tilted his head in confusion. 

"My flat," she said, eyes still taunting him. "The top one. This place looks like a train wreck, but it's not, I swear. Come on." 

He was still slightly skeptical as she led him to a metal elevator that –thankfully – was a much smoother and secure ride than he'd been expecting. And at the top they exited into a small, slightly dated, foyer with a low table and a door so modern that the contrast was stunning. She drew her wand, performed a silent charm or two, and opened the door. He followed her. 

It was a bit more industrial than his flat, but Theo couldn't help but grin at the similar minimalistic style. Huge warehouse windows lined the back wall, and some impressive bookcases hid the exposed brick wall to the right. Her reading space slash living room area looked cute and cozy while still managing to pull off a more modern look. Not that he'd been expecting dumpy, lumpy old furniture, but he didn't know about her living accommodations with Weasley. Dumpy was damn near genetically ingrained into that family. 

To his left was a semi floating staircase and past it, he could partially see into her kitchen. Supporting the stairs was a concrete dividing wall, and on the other side of it was a tidy office space with a loft on top of it. When they climbed the stairs he glanced into the loft and saw that she had another couch, a few more bookcases, and a small flat screen mounted on the brick walls. But Hermione led him left down the hallway towards a semi open door. 

Her bedroom explained the odd angles he'd noticed outside. The brick walls were painted white, instead of bare like they were downstairs. Her bed was centered on the left wall and across from it was – unsurprisingly – a few more small bookcases. The high, high ceiling had nine skylight panes, and more strips of glass came down in a partial slant. There was storage space built into the back wall where the windows finally straightened out into two large panes, and the storage space created a bench that she undoubtedly used as a reading space. 

She had kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed by the time he finished looking around. She seemed a bit embarrassed and he glanced at her questioningly. 

"I haven't had a lot of people over since I moved here," she explained, rubbing one arm. "And they few that have been here, save for Luna, had opinions." 

Ah. Potter and Weasley. 

"I like this place. My flat can feel pretty cold and sterile sometimes, but this place feels warmer, y'know?  He assured her. "Luna Lovegood?" 

She nodded. 

"Blaise has been seeing her for a bit. I've only met her once or twice, but she seems nice enough. Didn't know you two were friends," he commented. 

"She was part of the DA," Hermione explained. "We've gotten a bit closer since the war...and since I moved here." 

 _Since you and Weasley split_ , he corrects mentally, joining her on the bed and ditching his shoes as well. Without thinking, he started toying with her fingers. 

"This place is very you," he said. "Warm. Cozy. Simply. Lots of books." 

She grinned at him and scooted closer. "I'm glad you like it." 

He hummed, still playing with her fingers. "I like _you_." 

She threaded said fingers with his own. "I like you too." 

"I don't believe you," he challenged. During school, Draco had once said you could damn near get a Gryffindor to do anything if you turned it into a challenge or a strike against their honor. He assumed, given the speed in which he'd found himself laying back against the mattress of the same with straddling him, that questioning her opinion of him had been one such slight. 

He would have to strategically make such slights more often. Especially when it gave him such lovely access to her equally lovely arse. Her jeans, however, he could do without. Flattering in public, yes. Needed in bed, no. 

Thankfully, her jeans did eventually come off and so did his, along with other unneeded garments, and made their way to her floor. They made not have burned all the calories they'd consumed at dinner, but they'd certainly tried. In fact, they'd tried so hard that Theo didn't remember falling asleep, or – hell – when they'd moved under the covers for that matter. He could vaguely curling against her already sleeping form, but that memory was rather hazy. 

The room was startlingly dark when he woke up with his face pressed into her curls and his arms tightly wound around her waist. He'd never asked her how she dealt with the sun, but there seemed to be metal panels that blacked out her skylights and windows. She must have closed them at some point the previous evening. He certainly wasn't complaining. 

Regardless of how warm and peaceful he felt with her still sleeping form pressed against him, some less than pleasant thoughts worked their way into his mind.  

Surely he liked this little witch too much. Too much and far too soon to be reciprocated, at any rate. She was everything he wished to be. Brilliant. Kind. Brave. He was a gentleman, sure, but he blamed those ingrained habits on pureblood breeding. He would not consider himself kind and he most certainly wasn't brave. Loyal to those he cared about, yes. But honorable? Good? Hardly. 

Theo didn't know what he'd do if Hermione, the witch he'd admired from afar for years, decided that this arrangement of theirs was just a fling. He didn't want a fling, not with her, or meaningless sex. He wanted nights like the last where they were just two normal people on a normal date. He wanted to deserve her, but as the Prophet would be quick to remind him if their situation were made known, he didn't and never would accomplish such a feat. 

"I don't want you to be temporary...," He murmured into her hair before pressing a gently kiss to the back of her neck. "I just want you to be mine" 

His heart stuttered when she shifted and he found out that she was _not_ asleep. But she just turned and tucked herself closer to him, nuzzling under his chin and tickling him slightly with her hair. 

"I like being yours," she mumbled. "Seems to be working in my favor so far." 

He kissed the top of her head. "It won't be firewhiskey and bacon burgers forever," he said quietly. "If people find out you're with me, Hermione-" 

"And they say a word about it, I will come up with a creative way to remind them that I helped take down one of the most dangerous wizards of all time," she interrupted, squeezing him. "I don't want you to be temporary either." 

Troubles pushed aside for the time being, Theo contented himself with just holding her and eventually the combination of warmth and darkness lulled them both back to sleep. 


	3. Boyfriend Sounds Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boats Against the Current || Theomione || Fluff filled Post-War AU || Part III
> 
> [Un-beta'd. Any and all errors are, naturally, faults of mine.]

Several weeks passed in a blissful haze for Theodore. He got to see Hermione almost every day, even if only for a quick bite to eat. They typically they spent their evenings – and thus their early mornings – at one of their flats. He was so used to sleeping with her in his arms that the nights he spent without her felt foreign. Unnatural. Thankfully, such nights were few and far between.

Last night had been spent at his flat again, meaning he'd woken up to citrus, vanilla, and soft skin pressed against his own. It was such a lovely way to wake up, really, and he planned on savoring every second of it with his nose nuzzled against her neck. It was for warmth, he told himself, warmth and comfort. Surely if you threw a pillow into a snake pit the snakes would wrap themselves around it, especially if it smelled lovely.

He traced a line of lazy kisses up and down her shoulder, his lips moving astray to briefly pay tribute to the small white-ink outline of Australia on her shoulder blade. It was smaller than a galleon and damn near invisible against her skin even if you knew where to look, but he was close enough to appreciate it and had dug up several old copies of the Prophet to figure out the significance of the tattoo without asking her.

He'd found his answer within the briefest of paragraphs in the middle of an arse kissing article written shortly after the war. The Prophet had barely touched on how Hermione Obliviated her _parents_ and put them on the next muggle plane to Sydney in order to protect them from Death Eaters. They barely mentioned that the conditions under which the spell was performed rendered the Granger's current state permanent. Meaning they didn't know their daughter existed and there was no amount of magic that could change that.

Hermione Granger had given up her family for the wizarding world and the only recognition her sacrifice had received was a three sentence paragraph two pages deep in an article meant to be skimmed for war highlights, not read, absorbed, and retained.

And with Weasley turning out to be an absolute waste of her time…that left her with Potter, who was marrying into Weasley's family. Potter, who was choosing one friend over the other, whether he realized it or not. _Potter_ , who would be _dead_ if it weren't for the witch in Theo's arms.

Another thing he had in common with her, he supposed: No family left.

He didn't like it. She was everything, _everything_ , pureblood children were raised to be underneath the politics. If they lived in a world where he could have known her better during their years at school, he would have found every excuse to talk to her, used his quiet wit to outsmart Blaise and Draco's practiced charms, and kept the little witch to himself.

At least he had her in this broken world of theirs, he supposed. There were still people who would judge them when they found out their war heroine often spent her nights with a Death Eater's son, but he still had her. For now, she was his and even if that changed, he'd at least gotten a chance. At least she liked him too. Maybe that would be enough to make her stay when their drama-free bubble inevitably burst.

He wanted people to know she saw him past his father's mistakes, he just didn't want them to turn on her.

She yawned silently and he loosened his grip so she could roll over, after which she promptly buried her head under his chin. He, in turn, happily buried his face into her curls.

"Morning," she mumbled against him.

"Good morning, little witch," he murmured back. "Anything on the agenda today?"

She hummed softly. "I have a book order waiting for me at Flourish's," she answered with another yawn. "If we get it soon, we can try that new café near the Apothecary."

"Hermione," he said quietly, but she interrupted him.

"I don't want to hide you. You aren't a secret, Theo, and, honestly, how well do you think things will pan out for anyone who tries to interrupt our outing?"

He let out a slow sigh. "It's not that I don't want to, pretty witch, I do, but wouldn't this be asking for trouble?" She leaned back just enough to frown at him and since his left arm was still tucked under her, he used his right hand to gently push back some of her curls. "This is so _easy_ , Hermione. I don't want to give any opinionated arses a chance to try and ruin that…"

"I have a few cards up my sleeve," she told him. "So if anything happens, I'll ruin _them_."

He hadn't fought her after that, even though he was no more comfortable with the idea when they were making their way through Diagon Alley than he had been in bed that morning. Thankfully fall hadn't wasted it's time blowing in and sweeping away the last remnants of summer with ease. A brisk chill had settled quite stubbornly, as cool temperatures were wont to do, though it wasn't cold enough to freeze the come-and-go rain showers they'd been having for days.

Being cold was one thing, but being cold and wet was another problem entirely, and one that most people tended to avoid.

Hermione, like Theo, didn't particularly mind the weather. Jumpers had been invented for a reason, after all.

Unfortunately, the lack of people roaming Diagon Alley did not mean the couple went unnoticed. People still noticed them, stared, and the only thing that kept Theodore from slipping into one of his meaner Slytherin masks was the firm pressure of a small hand in his own. Hermione Granger was determined to go into public – wizarding public – with Theo at her side, though he didn't particularly understand the Gryffindor's insistence or why she'd want to be in public with _him_ for that matter, but she did and he was far too selfish to deny himself the chance to passive aggressively gloat.

The only person who didn't seem to care far more than they should about Theodore's presence with the well-known witch was the greying wizard behind the counter at Flourish and Blotts.

He had slate grey eyes and a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, with rectangular glasses and a small smile that seemed a rare occurrence. Hermione's presence appeared to be the trigger for that smile.

"Tisiphone," He greeted warmly. "I knew you'd be in soon. We've got some new stock. Figured I'd let you have a chance to pick through it before I started shelving."

"You didn't have to do that, Corbin," Hermione said. Theo watched her give him a relaxed grin. "You know I'll find what I want whether you shelve it or not."

Corbin chuckled. "As if I'd make you go through the trouble of searching through this place more often than you already do. Come on, love, both of ya. New stuff's in the back."

Theo followed silently, his hand still snuggly wrapped around Hermione's, as they followed Corbin around the counter and down a narrow hallway. A wave of the old wizard's wand later and the wards around the storage room door were down. The inside of the space was not dusty, as Theo had expected, but the room was thick with the smell of new books and littered with boxes. Some were open, some were still spelled shut, and there was one box near the entrance of the room atop a stack of its cousins. It was a rather large box at that, with 'Tisi' written in bold letters on the side. Apparently he saved books for her often.

Theo hung back by the door while the two chatted aimlessly and picked through the box of books. Not once did Corbin insinuate that Theodore wasn't welcome in his store. Not once did he try to imply that Hermione should get out more, maybe find some new friends, or did she want to check the hobby section for something new to learn? In fact he smiled in that sly knowing sort of way older people did when they knew something you didn't. It made Theo slightly uneasy.

"Anything for you today, Mr. Nott?" Corbin asked as he was ringing up – and to her protests, severely discounting – Hermione's purchases.

"No thank you," Theo answered politely. "I'm just here to carry her stuff."

Hermione swatted his arm, earning an accidental smirk from him in the process. "That is _not_ why I wanted you to come with me," she insisted.

"Sure it wasn't, pretty witch," Theo teased, a little bit of his tension leaving him. "Because you couldn't financially support this entire store by yourself just to keep up with your 'light reading.'"

She stuck her tongue out at him as Corbin chuckled. "Safe to assume this is the boyfriend you've been telling me about, Tisi?"

Hermione gave an unintelligible squeak. "I-I never said _boyfriend_ , Cor!" She shouted, cheeks flaming.

Theo couldn't find his voice.

"Seems like a boyfriend to me, love," said Corbin, still grinning. "But fine, fine, I'll quote you correctly. The bloke you've been _dating_."

Hermione was still grumbling things about how they hadn't discussed titles and how nothing was _official_ when Theo quietly managed to say, "Boyfriend sounds nice."

The resulting seconds of Hermione blinking at him with flaming cheeks were silent except for Corbin's quiet chuckles. "You two remind me of my daughter and her bloke."

"Been together a while, have they?" Theo asked, managing to sound conversational in spite of the desperate undercurrent to the question.

Corbin gave him another one of those grins that made Theo want to fidget. "Their ten year wedding anniversary is next month. Quite a while, I'd say."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione said brightly, glad to have the topic shift away from her own affairs, clearly. Although it hadn't, really, but Theo and Corbin seemed to be the only two aware of that. "Are they doing anything special to celebrate?"

"Well, I'd imagine they'll do more that be tourists," Corbin answered with a wink. "I get a full fortnight with my grandson out of it too. They're going off somewhere. Clever prick won't tell her where though."

Theo snorted softly. "Surprise getaways are usually a good choice."

"So are titles," Corbin parried, grinning again before giving Hermione a look. "Don't you start blushin' again, Missy. You either claim them as your own or you risk someone else snatchin' them away, and that goes to both of you. Enjoy what you have while you have it and work to keep it," he told them, his smile turning wry. "What's the point of making memories if you're not going to really live them?"

Theo silently wrapped her hand in his own again and shrugged as if things hadn't just gotten emotionally charged. "I said boyfriend sounded nice. Girlfriend has a pleasant enough ring I suppose."

"Prat," Hermione mumbled.

"Boyfriend," he corrected, but it sounded like a question even to his ears.

She laced their fingers and squeezed his. "That."

Satisfied with his meddling, Corbin finished shrinking Hermione's box of books, engaged in the age old argument of dropping his favoritism discounts – which Hermione lost, as always – and smiled at the still slightly flustered pair as they made to leave.

They hadn't even fully turned towards the door when another patron spoke up, effectively plummeting Theo's mood.

"You're letting her leave here with _him_?!" the wizard demanded, his thoughts on Corbin's mental health written very clearly on his face. "Do you know who he _is_?! So you know who _she_ is?!"

"Funnily enough I do," Corbin answered cooly, his warm cadence vanishing in an instant. "His mother was a regular before she fell ill, may she rest in peace. Last time I spoke to this young man properly he barely reached my knee." He sniffed. "Glad to see he takes after his mother."

"He's a Death Eater!" The man shouted, gaining the attention of the few other browsing customers. "You serve his kind here? Have you no shame?"

Theo felt Hermione's hand tense around his own mere moments before she went off. "His _father_ was a Death Eater you ignorant fool," she growled. "Clearly you know who I am, which means you know I fought in the war. Yes, the same war his father fought in to try and eradicate people like me!" She said quickly, cutting the man off before he could attempt to interrupt her. "I've faced _and_ taken down enough dark wizards to spot one for miles! Not to mention I know damn well how to fend one off! Do you really think the son of a Death Eater – the son who stayed as neutral in the war as he possibly could _and was never marked_ – has a chance in hell at one-upping me?"

"Hint, the answer is no," Corbin said from behind the counter. "I don't know what you think you're seeing, Mister, but she certainly isn't under the imperious and he's about as smitten as they come. So just what exactly are you trying to imply about my friends here?"

Theo was quite certain that if the somewhat portly, dark haired wizard got any more flustered he'd explode. "This is unfathomable!"

"And you're a prejudiced arse," Hermione snapped. "You're no better than the Death Eaters with that attitude."

It was if she'd spoken some inspiring piece of gospel, because every quiet member of their audience suddenly joined in.

"You can't blame children for their father's mistakes!"

"Who are you to question her judgement, anyway? She's Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake! Brightest witch of her age!"

"One bad egg doesn't ruin the whole family tree, ya prick!"

The onslaught continued, rendering their attacker red in the face and snatching the wind out of his sails. Hermione was as smug as that damn cat of hers as she stared the wanker down. Theo's lips twitched slightly, but he'd be properly amused when he'd had a chance to process everything. He still hadn't fully made sense of the boyfriend thing.

"Sir, have you finished shopping?" Corbin's voice rang out, silencing the angry crowd.

Mr. Opinions nodded stiffly. "I am, though I hesitate to associate with an establishment so ready to forget just what sort of people caused the war. Who knows how many people his father-"

"Excellent," Corbin interrupted. "Your galleons are no good here. I don't appreciate having some of my finest customers insulted unprovoked and inaccurately to boot. Get the hell out of my store."

Theo almost snorted. Almost.

" _Excuse m-_ "

"I won't repeat myself," said Corbin. " _Your kind_ isn't welcome here."

More angry remarks followed the man out the door and Hermione flicked her wand at the pile of books he'd unceremoniously dropped in the middle of the floor as he'd left, sending them off to reshelf themselves. Several people muttered assurances and praises about Hermione's capacity for forgiveness as they went back to their shopping, leaving Theo perplexed. He knew the witch had influence thanks to her part in the war, but the public seemed to follow her example as if she were a beloved deity. _Why?_ What else had she done that he wasn't aware of? Or was her overall prodigal competence simply a novelty to them?

He supposed it didn't really matter either way. The effect was to his benefit, after all.

"Want to grab take away?" Hermione asked quietly. "There's making a point and then there's being a glutton for punishment. Plus, there's only so much idiocy I can handle before lunch."

He snorted and squeezed her fingers, giving Corbin a thankful nod as he steered her out of the bookshop. "We could go somewhere muggle. You can teach me about Wi-Fi and why it being free is worthy of a window sticker."

"You'd like the Internet, I think," she told him. "Granted, I'm only so immersed in things nowadays, but I have a computer at my flat."

"And Wi-Fi?" He asked, earning an amused eye roll.

"Yes, Theo. And wireless internet."

She explained why wireless internet was called Wi-Fi over Earl Grey and bagel sandwiches, so that by the time they finally got back to his apartment, he was eager to get some muggle gadgets of his own.

"Do you have a smartphone?" He asked her as she shuffled out of her jumper, which he took and hung by the door.

"I do, but the only other person I know with one is Harry and he so rarely remembers that he can text me rather than sending an owl," she answered, stretching as she settled onto his couch. "I play on it occasionally or read digital copies of books. Sometimes it's a quick way to fact check things related to my research."

Ah, yes. Google. She'd mentioned that at the café.

"Could I get Internet here or would magic bother it?" He asked, taking the other end of the couch and opening his arms in invitation. She didn't hesitate to shift so she was laying against him, which pleased him to no end. Circe help him if he ever ended up under the sorting hat again.

"I've figured a way around magical interference," she said smugly. "We'll get you Wi-Fi and a computer and a phone if you'd like one. You'll be commanding modern technology before you know it."

He hummed contentedly. "Thank you, pretty witch."

She shrugged gently. "It's why I'm here."

"I thought you were here because you're my girlfriend," he murmured, nose pressed against her hair.

She shifted slightly and peeked up at him. "That too."

He brushed his nose against her own before he kissed her. "I like that reason better."

They didn't talk much more, with their mouths at least, for quite some time. Their hands, among other things, however, had several deep discussions throughout the course of the evening. By the time they'd had a bath and started dinner, it was nearly time to actually _sleep_ in his bed, rather than engage in much more entertaining activities.

While the pasta was cooking and with Hermione tending to a pan of alfredo sauce and chicken – clad only in a very aesthetically pleasing pair of dark blue lace knickers – Theo slipped out of the room. He'd had very few chances to get lost in his thoughts the last few hours, but what chances he did have were spent thinking about their relationship. It wasn't as if much had changed, but at the same time, everything had.

If someone had told him during sixth year that in seven years he'd be dating Hermione Granger, Theo would have laughed in that person's face and insulted their intelligence, maybe even inquired about their mental health. To his pleasure, the mostly naked witch in question was truly in his kitchen tending to their supper while he checked specific places in his bedroom and en suite for anything left over from his relationship with Draco. After finding nothing, he spelled away a few traces of dust and went to the closet next, sliding some things over and briefly organizing others.

Hermione's voice rang through the flat when he was on the final touch, alerting him that dinner was nearly finished. Quickly, he put her toothpaste and toothbrush from her little beaded bag in one of the free drawers in the bathroom. He left the drawer open and set her bag on the counter before returning to the kitchen, just in time to get a lovely view of blue lace covered arse as Hermione bent over to get the garlic bread of out the over.

Circe, muggleborns had perks. And perky things. And defaulted to manual habits that made for tempting visuals. Merlin's pants, those knickers were killing him.

"Everything okay?" She asked without turning around, having sensed either his presence or his gaze on her backside. He wasn't sure which.

"Of course. Exponentially better now, of course," he answered truthfully. Regardless of the fact that she was only in her knickers and he in a lose pair of shorts, the evening had turned intoxicatingly domestic and he was reveling in it.

This was what he wanted - _She_ was what he wanted. She made things light and easy where they'd been heavy and intense with Draco. Yes, Theo would always love him, but Draco's self-loathing wasn't something Theodore could fix and trying had just brought them both down. Theo had enough baggage from the war on his own. Trying to keep them both afloat hadn't worked at all, but with Hermione such issues weren't present. He wasn't in his own head about the little things as much because he was too busy thinking about how wonderful she made him feel. This fluffy haired, bibliophilic, _gorgeous_ little witch was his, for lack of a better term, and he'd do his damndest to keep it that way.

He wanted her to already be in the flat working away on some project or another when he got home from early shifts at the Rotten Apple, or to find her already asleep in his bed at wee hours of the morning and slip in beside her after a late night. He already saw her at least daily, but there was little he wouldn't give to see her more...

Maybe she'd end up spending the night more often if she accepted his passive invitation to leave some of her stuff behind...

"We can have ice cream after," he said, getting two bowls down from the cabinet as she switched off the burners.

"Last time we shared a pint of ice cream we – _I_ – ended up sticky," she reminded him.

He bit hi slip. "Look, why would I dirty a bowl when your chest is a much more satisfactory way to feed myself? Not to mention it's efficient. I get to have one dessert while starting on the next."

Her nose wrinkled slightly, but she grinned even as she tried – and failed – to swat him. "Cheeky git."

He fluttered his lashes at her. "Last time I checked, which was while you were fussing over the garlic bread, _I_ wasn't the cheeky one here."

She pointed the alfredo covered stirring spoon at him semi-threateningly. "Listen you, we've had one meal today and burned twice as many calories as we took in. We've almost been out of the sack long enough to get more nourishment and I'd rather not stumble out here later to eat this cold. Quit making me want to jump you," she sighed, exasperated. "Good things come, and all that."

He held out a bowl to her so she could dish out her pasta, grinning the entire time. "Of course you do, love, I'm not that selfish," he quipped.

Thanks to Theo remaining mindful of the time, their food was still hot when he went to retrieve it from the kitchen sometime later. She really was just too easy to rile.

 _Gryffindors_ , he mused while chuckling and smirking at her from across the bed. _Actually_ are _wildcats in bed._

He owed Blaise a galleon.

After taking her food from him, Hermione had announced – still entirely nude, mind - that she was staying out of reach and wasn't talking to him until she'd eaten. As if that would really stop him if he wasn't too hungry himself to call her bluff, so he played along, taking great care to pace his eating so he would finish moments before she did. There was still a pint of cookies and cream in the freezer to consider, after all...


	4. Pretty Witch Gets Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Theo takes care of his sickly witch.

Venturing into wizarding public had become somewhat of a weekly ritual after the Flourish and Blotts incident. Theodore had become quite fond of the way some people stared at them while those that dissolved into whispers did little more than amuse him. By his count, Hermione had cut down four random citizens, seven waitresses, three of their former classmates, a reporter, and over half the Auror department -including Weasley, who, according to eyewitness accounts, had been one wrong word away from becoming an early blood sacrifice for Samhain. Needless to say, Theodore was less concerned about the witch leaving him because of unpopular opinions as opposed to how he felt weeks prior. Surprisingly, Potter had fallen into the supportive camp, as had his Weaslette. Points to The Boy Who Lived for not becoming a self-righteous prick after the war. More points for recognizing that his former best mate was a worthless, unfaithful prick.

With most of Hermione’s social circle accounted for, that left them with Theo’s almost non-existent group of friends to tackle. Blaise already knew since he’d come along when Hermione told Luna, leaving them with the one person Theo hadn’t talked to in over six months.

Somehow Hermione had gotten Rita Skeeter to make sure the Prophet article about them was factually sound and _naturally_ that meant Draco – via Narcissa – had read the article mere moments after it was printed in an evening issue of the bloody gossip rag.

At least, that’s the only thing the letter being held out to Theo by Draco’s prat of an owl could mean. They hadn’t spoken since Draco left for France, and the timing was impeccable. Besides, Malfoys didn’t do coincidences.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you, Abra,” Theo said to the owl. “How’s Paris treating you?”

The little shite nipped at him.

“Rude,” he muttered, summoning one treat instead of three like he knew the spoiled owl was used to.

Owls could make disdainful expressions, he learned.

 _Theo,_ Draco wrote, _Doing well, I see. Circe, mate, Granger? Fleshing out a few dorm room fantasies, are we?_

_I take it she’s tolerable now, then? Mum told me about her fallout with Weasley. Seems like his loss to me, really. How great of a mother can Molly Weasley possibly be if she’s breeding unfaithful wanks willing to proudly admit they’d prefer a slag to a girl who wants some respect? Deplorable. Curse dogged for Granger, I'd say._

_She’s good to you, yeah? You’re not just…hell, Theo, I don’t know. This isn’t some backwards attempt at making amends, is it? You’re not just letting her lead you around to make up for shite we couldn’t control in school? For the love of Circe, Theo, if you are, get out now. I’m only still in Paris for laughs, but I can come back to London if you need me to. I was planning on coming home closer to spring anyway…_

_Just don’t do anything stupid, alright? And be mindful of Abra. He’s been a right brute, lately. Dunno what’s ruffled his feathers though, the prick's just been fussy._

_~D_

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Theo’s lips. He’d expected it to take a little longer than a paragraph for Draco to completely give up on sounding aloof, but it seemed the prat still cared about him enough to forget his Malfoy airs. The waters between them were still calm.

He summoned some paper and fished a black gel pen from the junk drawer. Muggle versions of writing utensils were one of the many things he’d come to love since the war. His favorite pens wrote so smoothly it had taken him a while to get used to them. Now he could hardly stand writing with a quill.

He quickly penned a reply to assure Draco that yes, he was fine and no, his relationship with Hermione wasn’t founded on guilt. That anything they “fleshed out” wasn’t any business of Draco’s, but aside from flying and Divination, the woman was truly a prodigy in everything she did. So if Draco wanted to come home sooner, that was perfectly fine, but not to rush home on Theo’s account because he truly was fine. Better than fine.

He sent Abra the Grump on his way before he set about making tea. He wasn’t sure what Hermione would want for breakfast, but tea was always a good place to start and he knew she loved Earl Grey.

Whether or not she knew he’d remembered her favorite muggle kind or that he’d bought finer quality tea leaves for her to try and left them in the cabinet, on the other hand, was unknown. If she noticed the tin of tea leaves she’d probably say something about it.

Theo frowned at the clock on the stove. Hermione didn't sleep in unless they stayed up significantly later than usual and last night they hadn't. He'd been a bit worn out from his shift at the bar since three different fights had broken shortly before closing and she'd seemed a tad weary herself. Theo was fairly certain that they’d never gotten so many hours of sleep together in one twenty-four hour time frame since the first night he'd brought her home.

So why wasn’t she awake yet?

He cast a warming charm on the tea before quietly making his way back to the bedroom to check on her. He had made sure the heavy curtains were closed properly when he'd gotten up that morning so the sun wouldn't interrupt her much needed rest prematurely, which meant the room was rather dark. Even though he expected the space to be quiet, her breathing seemed a tad too loud, a bit labored even, and she was burrowed into a tangled mess of sheets and duvet.

Frowning, he moved over to the bed and sat down, pulling away the pillow that was partially over her face to find her expression twisted in discomfort and curls stuck to her face. His frown deepened when he touched her cheek and found it far too warm. He hated to wake her, but...

"Hermione?" He said quietly, trying to pull the sheets away from her sweltering form. "Baby, I need you to wake up."

She whined scratchily and made feeble attempts at preventing him from taking her blankets away, shivering when he finally managed to fully uncover her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered when she hissed and curled in on herself. "You're too warm. Come here."

She cracked an eye open, her vision unfocused, and pouted at him miserably. He brushed the damp curls away from her face.

"Hey, you," he said gently. "You're sick, pretty witch. Come here."

"I'll get you sick," she rasped.

He reached over and carefully wormed an arm between her and the bed while hooking the other under her legs to pull her closer. "Not if we get you some Pepper Up," he pointed out. "Then you'll be right as rain."

She shook her head as he pulled her against his chest. "Can't. Allergic."

Theo hummed thoughtfully. "Muggle medicine then, but first we have to get you cooled down." 

He wrapped the sheet around her before carrying her into the bathroom and gently setting her on the lid of the toilet. He kept a close eye on her while he ran the tub, pleased — not for the first time — that he'd let Draco convince him to splurge a little on the utilities as he watched it fill. Hermione was far too out of it to bathe unattended and he hadn't showered yet anyway.

"Once we get cleaned up, we'll go to a drug store, okay?" He said as he made sure the water was just warm enough for comfort, but cool enough to help her fever. "I've only had to buy allergy medication, so I'm not quite sure what I'll need to get you."

"I'll help," she croaked. "It's easy. Match your symptoms to what's on the box."

He threw her a soft smile. "Clever creatures, muggles. There are so many medicinal alternatives that provide more potent effects than potions."

She smiled just a pinch and shrugged. "In some ways. You can heal a lot of things better with magic, though. You have allergies?"

He shook his head and turned off the taps. "Draco's built up an immunity to allergy potions over the years. One of the healers at St. Mungo's recommended he try a muggle brand. Green and white bottle."

"Zyrtec?" She guessed.

"Sounds about right." He stepped over to her and folded down the sheet so he could take off her camisole. "C'mon, you. Bath time."

He quickly undressed them both and got in the tub first, mindful to keep his hands from getting wet so he could steady her as she climbed in slowly after him. She shivered even after he'd pulled her against his chest and he could feel her back muscles tensely jumping from the chill.

"I've got you," he murmured, holding the too-warm witch tighter. "I know you think you're cold, but you're not."

"Freezing," she mumbled, pressing into him more firmly. "Head hurts."

He kissed her hair, using a wet hand to smooth down some errant strands. "I'm sorry, Baby. We'll get you feeling better soon."

She shifted, twisting in his arms so she could tuck her head under his chin. In any other circumstances her new position would have been more than inviting, but she was far too unwell, and he far too worried, for such stress relieving activities. Though he certainly wouldn't mind finding himself in this position again with a healthy, energetic version of his witch

"Do you want to swing by your flat while we're out?" He asked. "Feed the cat, pack some more clothes."

She grunted quietly. "You don't _have_ to take care of me, Theo," she rasped.

He rolled his eyes. "But I'm going to."

"Prat," she mumbled.

"Silly little witch," he murmured into her hair. "No pureblood wizard worth his salt would leave his lady to fend for herself." He smiled when she snorted. "Besides, I want to.”

He felt her lips press against his collarbone and considered the battle won for now.

~~~~~

They floo’d to her flat a while later. Theo wasn’t willing to rush the lethargic witch, or let her rush herself, so their bath had taken quite a bit more time than it would have under normal circumstances. It had taken some convincing, but he managed to get her into some of his comfier clothes instead of putting her back in the jeans and sweater she’d worn the day prior. Now she was drowning in a pair of his grey sweatpants and a dark green pullover, looking begrudgingly cozy and too cute for words. She glared every time she caught him grinning at her, but never did more than stick her tongue out at him.

Once he’d fed Crookshanks, her surprisingly agreeable cat, and helped her pack more loungewear, he shrunk her things and put them in her purse. She told him about the drugstore a short walking distance away and together they slowly make the trek down the street.

Theo frowned when they entered the store, noting how much the short walk had taken out of Hermione. Spying carts nearby, he fetched one and, before the witch could protest, scooped her up and set her inside.

“You’re exhausted,” he said, ignoring her scratchy indignant squawks as he started pushing her towards the medicine aisle. “Hush.”

A middle aged employing stocking beauty products nearby gave them a smile, which Theo returned and Hermione didn’t notice.

“I don’t want you to get any worse,” Theo told her, finally finding the aisle they needed. “You’re miserable enough.”

She huffed. “I’m not an invalid.”

“You aren’t.,” he agreed. “But you _are_ my much-adored girlfriend and therefore it’s my job to take care of you even when you don’t want me to.”

Her expression softened even though her lips were still pulled into a pout. “I’m sorry,” She muttered. “You’re trying to help and I—”

“You’re behaving like someone who’s sick and miserable.” He interrupted. “Hush. It’s fine. Let’s just find you some meds, okay?”

They stopped at the cold and flu section where Theo stared helplessly at the various colored boxes, all advertising to relieve the same symptoms, it seemed. Hermione was eyeing them as well, but had a much better grasp on what she was looking at.

“Can you grab that one? The daytime and nighttime kind, please,” she asked, pointing to two boxes on the shelf.

He grabbed them, skimming the front of each box and nodding as he read. If she got sick again in the future, he wanted to know what brand she preferred.

“Okay,” he said as he put them beside her in the cart. “There’s a small grocery section. Is there anything you want? You probably won’t be able to stomach much…You weren't very hungry this morning.”

She nodded, resting her hands and chin on her knees tiredly and making his chest ache. He’d move fast, they’d leave and get somewhere safe from muggles, apparate to her flat, and get her back to his. He’d even bring the cat and its things if it meant she’d stay in bed and rest until her sickness passed.

He moved through the store as quickly and reasonably as possible, getting her several cans of the chicken noodle soup she swore by, saltines for said soup, chamomile tea, and a few random items for himself before they checked out. Hermione was barely lucid as he gently helped her out of the cart and started them on a very slow walk away from the store.

“Baby, let me carry you,” he said when it became clear that Hermione wasn’t going to make it to the apparition point on her own. “We need to get you home.”

“‘M too heavy,” she mumbled, and he sighed quietly, pulling them into a side alley briefly.

“Magic, Sweetheart,” he reminded her softly. With a quick scan of the area to make sure they weren’t in sight of any muggles or security cameras, he cast a simple weightlessness charm. Once he’d given her the two plastic bags from the store, he pulled her into his arms and continued walking.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, her voice thick due to her stuffy nose.

 _Oh, yes I did_ , he thought to himself. _How could I have done anything else?_

He kissed her hair without commenting, except to warn her before he apparated them back into his flat. She groaned when he laid her in the bed, curling in on herself almost immediately. He moved their bags to the floor and started taking off her shoes with the full intent of letting her get to sleep even though it was barely six pm.

“Do you want some soup before you sleep?” He asked quietly.

She made a small noise in her throat and nodded. “Meds too,” she croaked, “My head…”

“It’s still kinda early,” he told her. “Do you want daytime or nighttime?”

“Day’s fine…”

He quickly cast a charm on the sprite he bought for her so the fizz wouldn’t be quite so intense, fiddling with the gel pills for a moment before helping her sit up and take them. She took a few extra sips before looking at him blearily.

“Thank you,” she slurred tiredly. “You really didn’t have—”

He shushed her. “Quiet you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek. “I wouldn’t be able to stay here knowing you were miserable at your flat anyway.”

Half an hour later, after he’d slowly fed her a bowl of soup and the medicine had started to take noticeable effect, Theo carefully helped Hermione into bed and cast a medically inclined cooling charm on the sheets and blankets. Satisfied that she wouldn’t get too warm should her lowering temperature climb once again, he helped her cocoon herself under the duvet and sat back.

“You’ve got your wand in your pocket, right?” He asked her, receiving confirming nod. “Good. Are you gonna be okay if I run a quick errand? I’m going to strengthen the wards a bit before I go, but I’m just running to Diagon to pick something up.”

“Tha’s fine,” she mumbled, then yawned and still managed to be adorable even though she was ill. He smiled as he brushed some of her hair out of her face.

“Where’s your phone?” He asked, noticing his own on his bedside table.

“Other pocket.”

“Good,” he said. “I’m taking mine then, what with your brilliant charms skills and what not making that possible.”

Her lips just barely curved into a smirk. “What would the Prophet say?”

Theo chuckled. “That would be a hell of an article, wouldn’t it?” Gently, he leaned down a pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Mkay. Be safe,” she muttered with another yawn.

He grabbed his phone, assured her that he’d be careful, and apparated away, reappearing outside one of the newer additions to Diagon Alley. He entered the warm little shop, causing the small bell on the door to chime pleasantly, and went to lean against the glass counter. Thankfully, the store was empty, leaving Theo to  inspect the various display items in peace while he waited for the shopkeep to emerge from the back of the store.

In the aftermath of the war, advancements in warding charms and their execution had been highly invested in as a way to help people feel safe in their own homes again. Theo, as well as many of his fellow aristocrat heirs and heiresses, generously invested in the small industry in a futile effort to lessen the public discontent with their families. The Prophet had barely acknowledged their involvement, but warding magic had made leaps and bounds, producing safer, more complex methods of protecting homesteads and workplaces.

Which was why he'd come to Diagon Alley in the first place.

He wasn't certain when he'd give it to her, since the mere thought of bringing it up terrified him, but Hermione falling ill had only solidified his resolve on the matter. Instead of going through the whole process of keying her wand and magic to the wards at the flat, Theo had ordered a Ward Ball — a small dough-like sphere imbued with the permissions necessary to key a wand to the wards. The protective glass shell around the ball was broken, then the smooth substance was spread over the wand being keyed and the master of the wards cast a spell to finalize the process. Without the final spell being cast, the ball was useless, and only the witch or wizard who had cast the wards could successfully cast the spell.

Theo had long since grown tired of Hermione having to wait for him at the Rotten Apple just so he could let her into the flat once his shift ended. Not that he didn't adore spending the last portion of his shift with his witch sitting at the bar, but the fact that she had no other choice but to spend time in the less than desirable Knockturn Alley pub frustrated him. Granted, he also had absolutely no idea when it would be appropriate to present the new milestone to her, especially since he wasn't expecting her to return the gesture under any circumstances, but it would be nice to know she was somewhere safe and not possible being accosted by should-be-convicts.

Nervousness sat heavy in his stomach as he left the shop a while later with a blue, aquamarine, and turquoise ball of enchantments in his pocket. He'd never admit to Hermione how expensive the convenient little item was, but he would hold onto it a while. Keep it somewhere hidden and safe until the right moment came. _If_ that moment came.

He sighed a breath of relief when he apparated back into the flat and found Hermione resting, her temperature still down thankfully. He transfigured a box out of a piece of scrap paper for the ward ball, locked it with magic, and hid it in the bottom drawer of the night stand on his side of the bed. Salazar only knew how things would work if she had access to the flat when — if — Draco returned, but the flat was Theo's legally, so giving her access to pass through the wards wasn't Draco's decision to make.

Not that Theo wanted to ostracize his best mate or 'replace' him just because he had a new witch in his life. He didn't, but he also wouldn't let Draco dictate his love life or worse, ruin what he had with Hermione because of some pratty schoolyard feud if he returned to England in a mood.

Theo shook his head as he slipped into bed next to his slumbering witch. He'd deal with those problems when the time came. For now, he had his witch, she had muggle medicine to help her get well, and there was plenty of soup for him to feed her until she regained her strength.

That was far more than he'd ever dreamed of asking for anyhow.


	5. Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boats Against the Current || Theomione || Post-War AU || Part V

Theo had exactly two hours to find more Christmas presents for his girlfriend and that included the time he'd need to spend finding somewhere in the flat to hide whatever he found. They'd be shopping together for their friends at a later date, but as they spent so much of their free time together, Theo needed to get her presents before Yule snuck up on him.

The problem was figuring out what to get a wealthy, not materialistic, war heroine that wasn't a book or something else painfully predictable. He had the ward ball, but he was so nervous about giving it to her that he wasn't sure he'd be ready by Christmas, and he'd stumbled upon a fetching new collar for Crookshanks, but other than those things, he'd come up dry.

What did you get a bookworm that wasn't another book? Or bookmarks or something else dreadfully dull?

He ended up at Flourish and Blotts despite himself and hoped that inspirations for more gifts would strike him as he roamed the store. It was empty, which surprised him given the time of year, but Theo was glad for the lack of customers. He was even more glad to see Corbin grinning at him from behind the counter.

"You look panicked," he said. "Shopping for Tisi?"

"Yes," Theo admitted, slightly embarrassed. " _Everyone_ gets her books so that's out of the question but…"

"But she'll have your head if you buy her diamonds," Corbin finished, still smiling. "Granted, I think you might be able to get away with something small from the jewelry category if you're clever about it."

Theo frowned. He'd looked at jewelry already and hadn't found much he thought she'd wear, let alone accept. "She doesn't exactly wear much…"

"Her ears are pierced," Corbin offered.

Theo shook his head. "Rarely wears earrings. I've only seen her wear tiny studs on dates…"

"Something simpler then," Corbin tried. "What about a bracelet?"

"I'll look," said Theo. "Any other ideas?"

Corbin scratched his chin. "What else have you gotten her?"

Theo must've hid his discomfort poorly because Corbin started smirking at him again. "It can't be that bad."

"It isn't," Theo said. "I just don't think I can give it to her yet…"

Corbin raised a brow that was both patient, impatient, and expecting, causing Theo to smile slightly. After checking their surroundings to make sure no one outside the shop was spying through the windows, Theo discretely pulled the ward ball halfway out of his pocket just long enough for Corbin to see it.

"I'm afraid to leave it at the flat," Theo explained. "Like if I assume she won't find it, she will."

"Better safe than sorry," said Corbin. "Nothing's stopping you from making that a present, kid."

Theo frowned. "We've only been together for a few—"

Corbin raised a brow, making Theo fall silent. "Quality verses quantity applies here, I think," he said. "And I think we both know you love her, or you're at least well on your way to doing so."

"It's too soon," Theo muttered.

Corbin's brow stayed put and Theo sighed, admitting nothing. "The worst thing that can happen is she'll say she isn't ready," Corbin pointed out.

Theo made a noise of disagreement. "Or things will get awkward and she'll leave."

The look Theo received from Corbin could only be described as pitying. "You, my boy, do not see your world very clearly. Give it to her. Make it the last thing she opens."

Theo sighed again, heavier this time, and shrugged noncommittally. He might take Corbin's advice, but Theo wasn't a Gryffindor. He wasn't brave. If he took risks they were calculated and he didn't like the odds with this one.

Corbin, thankfully, changed the subject. "How's her study area?" he asked. "Does she write often? Use stationary? Prefer certain types of ink, maybe? Something with her favorite book quotes, even?"

Theo perked up at the quote idea. The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He could blend muggle and magical by imbuing an object — a new tea cup? — with dynamic charms so different quotes were visible depending on her mood...

"I think I have an idea," said Theo slowly. "Thank you."

Corbin smiled. "Anytime, kid. Off with you then."

With his plan in mind, Theo left Diagon Alley in high spirits and managed to finish the rest of his Christmas shopping for Hermione in muggle London.

* * *

Theo yawned quietly and reached for his peppermint hot chocolate, courtesy of the witch across the room, before taking a generous sip. They'd been at Hermione's flat for hours at his insistence. He'd wanted to see her research, to review her notes and explore her sources himself, which led to them sitting in her bedroom with papers and textbooks strewn all around. He smiled.

In sixth year he'd longed to experience her company in such a setting, longed to join her when he noticed her in the library working far later than their peers. Researching the phenomenon of muggleborns was certainly a better subject to explore with her, as opposed to Divination or Care of Magical Creatures, but she could've been gathering information to write a rock's biography and he would probably still be here.

She was in the middle of her bed in nothing but her knickers, a sports bra that seemed to be more for its aesthetic than name-suggested purpose, and a thin blue shawl. He watched her with his chin resting in one hand as she added variables he'd found to her arithmancy equations. The thoughtful frown pulling at her lips made him smile. He wondered if Draco knew just how many things he and Hermione had in common.

Theo shook his head. No comparing exes to present partners. Nevermind how similar they were; they were two different people.

He resisted the urge to sigh as he continued to watch her. Different people, yes, but both were ridiculously clever perfectionists. In another life they might've been study partners, friends even.

"Theo..." Hermione said, pulling him out of his reverie. "Can you look at this?"

He stood and stretched to pop his stiff joints before crossing the room to kneel beside her bed. She passed him the leather bound arithmancy journal she'd had custom made just for this project and he started looking over her equations. She had all the right runes, variable connector spells were lined up to information on other pages, and those were all correct. He frowned at the last page, realizing what the outcome of running the equation would likely be.

"If this is accurate..." He said quietly.

She was chewing her lip when he glanced up. "I don't want to get my hopes up...and I'm afraid what I _want_ the research to yield will affect the equations and—"

"Let's just run it," he interrupted. "We can work backwards and go through Nott Manor looking for some ancient records to translate if you want to find more evidence."

He sat the journal on the bed in front of them so they could both read it and drew in a breath when she cast the spell to start the equations. The pages flipped open, back and forth, while symbols and runes morphed. The lines connecting different variables glowed, twisted, and reconnected until, after several minutes, the pages stilled.

They glanced at each other, him excited and her anxious, as they carefully flipped through the results. When the full implications of her work became clear, he slowly exhaled.

"It makes sense," he said. "Circe, Hermione, if you manage to find more evidence to prove this you will change the way the entire wizarding world views Muggleborns."

She gave him a weak, anxious smile that made him start closing books and tugging her out of bed.

"You need a break," he said. "It's nearly Christmas. Leave the research be for a few days, okay?"

She let him lead her down to the kitchen for more hot chocolate. He watched her, satisfied when she started loosening up again, and together they made their way into her downstairs living room. A flick of his wand turned out the lights and a flick of hers opened the curtains. He settled on her couch, facing the windows, and pulled her back flush against his chest while being mindful not to spill his cocoa on her.

When she'd stopped fidgeting, Theo dropped a kiss to her hair. "It's almost Christmas Eve," he said. "Anything special you want to do?"

She shrugged. "This is more than sufficient, I think."

He chuckled and snaked his free arm around her waist. "I agree, but is there really nothing else you'd like to do to mark the occasion?"

"Well..." She said, "it's not exactly Christmas Eve specific, but there was something I wanted to do, if you think it wouldn't be overstepping."

He smirked, amused. "And what would that be?"

She sighed and sat up so she could turn to face him and launched into a very amusing story. Apparently, when she'd done her Christmas shopping prior to last week when they'd gone shopping for friends together, she'd stopped into the Leaky Cauldron for lunch and a few drinks. Enough drinks that she decided there was no good reason why she shouldn't be able to make peace with Draco, considering he was Theodore's friend, and set out finding what her slightly drunken mind considered an appropriate peace-making assortment of gifts. Asking to see them was, The admitted, a mistake.

She'd gotten him a black coffee mug with a white silhouette of a ferret. A matching t-shirt. A matching _bath towel_. Another shirt that read 'It's a ferret thing, you wouldn't understand' in bold letters across the front. A keychain chain in the shape of a ferret. An albino ferret _plushie,_ and, lastly, a book on how to properly care for one's ferret.

Theo had never laughed so hard in his life.

"He might kill you," he barely managed to force out. "Bloody hell, Hermione."

She only looked slightly ashamed when he wiped tears from his eyes, still losing the battle against a few chuckles. After a deep, calming breath, he started looking for his cocoa, only to find that Hermione had set it on the coffee table at some point after he lost control of himself.

"It feels more like a declaration of war than a peace offering," she said, her lips twitching into a smile.

"Let me send it," he said. "I'll tell him I asked you to help me shop for him or something. He'll realize we're taking the piss."

She giggled. "Fine by me."

Theo downed the rest of his cocoa and laid back down, pulling his witch with him. He might've chuckled a few more times as they watched snow fall outside her windows, but otherwise, their night in was peaceful.

Even Crookshanks decided to come curl up with them after a while.

* * *

Christmas morning dawned with overcast skies, the teasing promise of another layer of snow, and an unusually smug Theodore. He sipped his tea from his spot lounging on his witch's sofa, watching her lazily move about the flat performing various little tasks she could've finished in moments with magic. Not willing to pass up an opportunity to watch his witch do all sorts of mild bending and other displays of flexibility while she cleaned, Theo kept those thoughts to himself.

He had to give her points for almost managing to hide the tremors in her steps, but he wondered if she knew that _his_ knowledge of her attempts only proved to make him exponentially more pleased with himself than he already was.

After stifling a chuckle with a sip of Earl Grey, Theo licked a wayward drop of tea from his lips and his smirk returned when he realized just how well bergamont went with _Hermione_.

When she finally came to join him in the living room, she was levitating a tea tray beside her wandlessly and holding a very content Crookshanks. He must not have schooled his expression quickly enough, because she glowered at him.

"Of all the days to be so very _Slytherin_ ," she muttered.

"You weren't complaining thirty minutes ago," he said offhandedly. "Granted, you were a bit distrac—"

Crookshanks gave an annoyed yowl as he was — _gently_ — tossed onto Theo's person.

The cat was kind enough not to claw him too badly through his shirt, but Theo still rubbed at the sore spots the cat's mini-daggers had caused. Unfortunately, aside from garnering a bit of offense, Hermione's actions hadn't managed to wipe the smirk entirely off Theo's face.

"I'd never considered that you could sexually spoil a person," he said. "But I suppose only two orgasms before getting out of bed as opposed to the usual three or four could cause some unpleasant withdrawal symptoms. I forgive you."

"I hear Paris is lovely in the winter," she said, failing to sit down without him noticing that her legs weren't quite cooperating the way she wanted them to in this action either. "I could always see how Draco likes his present in person."

Theo gave Crookshanks a gentle scratch atop the head before lifting the ginger beast so the cat was glowering down at him. "I think I've embarrassed her, Crooks. She's awfully sensitive this morning, isn't she?"

The resulting meow managed to convey both agreement and exasperation, and Theo set Crookshanks on the floor beside the couch instead of holding him hostage. Crooks showed his thanks by rubbing his head against Theo's ribs before he sauntered away. Hermione was still glaring when his attention returned to her.

"You know I'm teasing," he said, his voice gentle and sincere even if he still couldn't quite get his smirk under control. When she didn't crack even a somewhat begrudging smile, his grin finally faltered. "Hey...what's wrong?"

He set his tea down when she didn't offer him an answer and half crawled to her side of the couch, putting him mostly on top of her and in the perfect position to bump her nose with his own. Which he did simply because he could.

"It's Christmas, pretty witch," he said softly. "Why so cross with me?"

She seemed to snap out of her funk to some extent because her expression softened and she looked away. "You didn't do anything wrong," she mumbled. "Sorry. I just...don't have very good connotations with getting teased about my sex life or...performance on Christmas. I didn't expect old wounds to make themselves known again without due prompting."

It took an excessive amount of self-restraint for Theo to keep most of his muscles relaxed and his voice even remotely controlled. " _Teasing_ in the context of two _lovers_ celebrating Christmas does not equate to emotional scarring," he said lowly. "Please don't excuse or downplay anything that worthless sod did or said to you. Especially not with me."

She frowned at him and her attempt to look reassuring missed its mark considerably. "It's not a big deal. I'm fine."

He raised a brow and tapped her nose with his own again. "You're a shite liar is what you are, love."

He prevented her from offering any other pathetically delivered excuses by covering her lips with his own. She made no moves to pull away nor significantly deepen the action, so Theo took his time re-exploring familiar territory until she seemed sufficiently distracted from any unsavory memories of Ronald Weasley.

"Well-bred purebloods have much different standards for courtship," he murmured as he moved to nuzzle her neck. "It seems the lesser families have been very lax in their lessons of etiquette and proper domestic conduct. I'm not saying my father was in any way a saint, but he did right by me in the ways that mattered, at least."

She snorted, causing him to smile as well, and with one last kiss that was more of a short snogging session, he pulled them both into an upright position.

"Presents," he announced. "You, my darling, had your sexual needs expertly tended to this morning, and thus are confined to the couch for the time being."

Hermione smirked at him. "I can't comment without feeling like a hypocrite."

"You're ruining my point," he sighed. "You were supposed to say 'Isn't the expertise or lack thereof up to my judgment?' that way we could set a clear example of what honest teasing is as compared to verbal abuse. Ten points from Gryffindor for interrupting my lesson."

"You seem to be suffering from the effects of spending far too many years under Snape's tutelage," she said.

He grinned. "You know what they say about the many talents of potioneers."

She made a face and halfheartedly thumped him with a decorative pillow. "Please don't spoil my Christmas morning with unsolicited negative mental images."

His grin softened into a fond smile as he gave into the temptation to steal one last kiss before standing and heading towards the tree. He spotted the silver and gold wrapped box next to a gift from Potter to Hermione, suddenly very happy he now had some control over the order in which gifts were opened, and grabbed several small items to take back to the couch.

Crookshanks reappeared at Theo's call and actually looked…flattered? Or so Theo thought before the half-Kneazle tore into his present with a few well calculated swipes of his paw. The sound blocking spells Theo had put around the small, cat-friendly gift box were only imbued into the paper, so when Crooks finally had his gift free, he was startled by the sudden tinkling noise.

The sound drew Hermione's attention as she was halfway through battling what appeared to be the third layer of paper on Potter's gift, and she peered down as Crookshanks figured out how to get his new collar out of its packaging.

Theo snorted as Crooks held the dark green leather gently between his teeth just beside the silver bell, squinted a moment, and promptly gave his head a firm shake.

And another.

And another.

"I think he likes it," Hermione said wryly.

Theo chuckled. "Come here, Crooks. You're supposed to wear it, silly cat."

With the new collar securely fastened and adjusted so it wasn't sitting uncomfortably, Crookshanks pranced between Hermione and Theo on the couch for several moments. The bell jingled pleasantly and Crookshanks, the vain little monster, was positively preening. His head was under Theo's chin in a quick, now noisy, pounce and Theo chuckled as he felt Crooks' steady purr.

"You're welcome," he said. "It suits you as well as I'd hoped."

Crookshanks situated himself along the back of the couch with his tail giving the occasional content flick as Theo and Hermione returned their attention to their presents. It turned out that Potter had gotten Hermione book on ancient wizarding history and genealogy, a nod towards her research efforts no doubt.

Two of the gifts Theo had selected were his and both happened to be from Blaise and Luna. He opened them curiously and nearly choked on his poorly timed sip of tea.

"Mother of Circe," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked, pausing in her inspection of Potter's gift.

Theo tried in vain not to smile as he looked between the book — _manual_ , really — and the accompanying box of…props.

"I'm not sure if I'm offended or touched," Theo managed. "If it was Blaise's idea, I think I'm meant to be offended by the insinuation that we might need a few pointers in this regard."

Hermione reached over and grabbed the book from his lap. He bit his lip, waiting for some outburst or another, but was surprised when she did little more than raise a brow in interest.

"This has Luna written all over it," she told him. "I assume the 'props' are sex toys that match the theme?"

Lips twitching into a smile, Theo glanced at the assortment of colored ropes, leather cuffs, candles, and silk scarves. "Something to that effect, yes. You know we could always take a break…"

Hermione gave him a look that told him she wasn't buying his feigned innocence. "We just started."

"Right then."

Perhaps he could persuade her to take a detour to the bedroom before they sought out a proper breakfast…

The pile of gifts on the coffee table grew a little bigger with each trip Theo made between the couch and the tree. Some of the gifts were serious, such as Mrs. Weasley's gift, which, to his surprise, contained two sweaters rather than just one for Hermione. He appreciated the Slytherin color scheme, grinning at the large silver T on the front. Hermione's blue and silver sweater would be very fetching on her later as well.

Other gifts were less serious, like Blaise and Luna's, of which there were two additional presents from the couple. Theo could safely say that he and Hermione had a respectable collection of sex toys thanks to the pair, and wondered what sort of gift basket would be an appropriate token of thanks.

Hermione's expression every time she'd opened one of his gifts was enough to drown his own happiness with hers. The charms had been a bit tricky on a few of the items, but well worth his time given the results.

He'd taken to reading as much of the muggle literature she enjoyed as he could during the times they were apart. She didn't know, as he'd made a point _not_ to mention it, but now he secret was out.

Hermione was now the proud owner of four new decorative pillows, each spelled to have several memorable quotes from a different novel fade in and out of the fabric at random intervals. He'd chosen _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Sense and Sensibility_ , _Jane Eyre_ , and _The Great Gatsby_ for the project. He'd also charmed her a large white mink fur blanket, spelled to be less than half its actual weight and to never get dirty. A variety of quotes from all the books swam across the fur in bold letters, the font dependent upon which novel the words were from.

She owned two new hoodies, one charmed like the rest of her gifts and one muggle-appropriate with a line from each book on the back. He'd also bought her a fountain pen whose true galleon value would follow him to the grave, and several jars of pretty ink for her to refill the ink cartridge with. Her new stationary was also quite expensive and he'd do his damndest to hide that fact from her as well.

The third to last gift he'd gotten her was one that made him rather nervous. The coffee mug appeared innocent, with its quotes and lines from the four books he'd charmed everything else with, but the mug also factored in her mood and emotions. Specifically, her feelings about him, when applicable.

The longer he'd spent working on her literary themed gifts, the longer he'd thought about his conversation with Corbin and his feelings for Hermione.

The results of such contemplations terrified him, perhaps more so because he knew it was far too soon for her to return them.

The mug was spelled with a large array of quotes at its disposal. Some were funny, some were mellow, and some were angry or bitter. Most of them reflected her mood, but when she touched the ceramic in any way while in his presence, a quote would appear in light blue, the only non-neutral color he'd built into the ink choices, and that quote would reflect her feelings towards him.

It felt like cheating, and to be fair it probably was, but that particular spell was tied to him so that it could factor in his feelings as well. So really, the blue words would reflect what level of emotions they held for _each other_ , but he knew which quotes would reflect that the depth of his feelings were returned.

It wasn't the quote that appeared when she first took the cup out of its wrapping, but he hadn't expected to see those words just yet. He didn't expect to see them ever, but like a fool, he hoped.

At any rate, she'd loved the mug.

And he loved her.

He'd also managed to find a bracelet, as Corbin had suggested. It was composed of three grey-lavender leather cords, some silver accents, and a single pearl bead. The center cord held the pearl, while the remaining two knotted around each other to frame the bead. He'd helped her with the clasp, and was all too pleased by her pretty smile when she made no move to take it off.

Theo wondered if she realized the subtle message behind that particular present.

The last present with her name on it was from him. The little ball of spells and magic that would grant her access to his flat whenever she wished was in a small charmed box and neatly wrapped in dark silver paper with twinkling gold starts. He'd gone so far as to enchant the paper himself, and was so nervous when he retrieved her last gif that he hardly noticed the tiny pile of his own presents remaining under the tree.

"This is the last of yours, I think," he said, managing to keep his voice and smile steady.

She read the tag sticker that said it was from him, gave him a smile that made his stomach twist, and undid the bow holding the lid on.

He only remembered to breathe when he started to get dizzy.

Hermione blinked at the box, her expression surprised but otherwise blank, while Theo did everything in his power not to panic. He wasn't exactly succeeding.

"I don't expect you to do anything with it right away," he said quickly. "I just…wanted to make sure you knew I…I wasn't opposed to the idea…"

He was in the middle of directing some choice mental curses at himself when she stood, setting the ward ball box on the coffee table as she did so. She went to the tree, found a box about twice the size of the one he'd just given her, and held it out to him without a word.

Frowning, Theo took the gift and gently began opening it while all too aware of her eyes on him. The paper fell away and the lid came off with just as much ease. Inside were two magically knit scarves, one dull red and bright silver, the other a deep green and pale, almost ivory, gold. When he lifted the second scarf from the box, something heavy slid out of it and thunked against the cardboard.

He stared at it. It held the same colors as the one he'd given her.

"You…" he said lamely.

"…are also not opposed to the idea," she finished for him, smiling softly when he finally worked up the courage to meet her eyes.

"That," he said quietly, letting out a slow exhale. " _That_."

His few remaining present under the tree were forgotten until many hours later after Crookshanks very pointedly used his new bell collar to pace outside Hermione's bedroom door noisily. Theo didn't doubt the tiny beast was in search of food, but…surely he could wait just a few more minutes…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I googled everything for Draco's present weeks ago, tried to re-Google it so I could put proof of all those awesome items' existences on the Pinterest board - AND ITS ALL VANISHED FROM THE INTERNET? Idfk but I'm super annoyed. Eventually, if I figure out how to perfectly duplicate my original search (all attempts so far have yielded nothing except the "It's a Ferret thing..." shirt) then those items will appear on pinterest. Until then, I'm quietly fuming and upset with Google.
> 
> Au revoir, my loves!


	6. Frustrated Ferret

**Boats Against the Current || Theomione || Post-War AU || Part VI**

Draco sat in one of the window seats in the living room of his Parisian flat with his legs spread out along the remainder of the bench, covered by a plush wool blanket. His hands were taking warmth from the steaming black albino ferret coffee mug — courtesy of Hermione Granger's _hilarious_ assortment of Christmas presents — that he carefully sipped from as he looked upon the dreary Paris morning.

Snow wasn't a very common occurrence in this part of the country, but a few inches had fallen and stuck only to be quickly covered by a layer of sleet. The Eiffel was lined with white, as if it were trying to blend in with the overcast skies behind it, and a light drizzle was still falling, causing ice to clink as it hit his windows.

It was a depressing Valentine's Day, to say the least. Made better only by Theo’s most recent written correspondence.

_Draco,_

_I can’t give you details, since it’s her project, but when you come home, assuming she’s comfortable sharing with you, I think you’ll really be impressed by what she’s doing. She’s so brilliant, mate. More brilliant than we could ever tell from a distance. It’s like she flips a switch to stay on a mostly normal level for everyday interaction and flips another when she’s problem solving. Sometimes I can barely keep up with her. _

_You thought she was a bit trying in school, but I think that can be blamed almost entirely on her being around Potter and Weasley. When that fiery Gryffindor righteousness is on our side, though? It’s just bloody entertaining. And scary. I really think Potter would’ve died a hell of a long time ago if he hadn’t had her._

_I think you two could be friends, if you can put our schooldays to the side long enough for her to warm up to you. I’ve seen Potter and Weasley once time apiece since we started dating, you know. Just the day she told them we were dating, which Potter took better than expected. Weasley turned purple. The things I want to do to him for how he treated her make me nauseous. Worthless sod._

_My point is that they’ve grown apart in a lot of ways. It’s…irritating how few friends she has. No one seems capable of appreciating her brilliance. Weasley made no less than four comments about her being a know-it-all when she told him about us, all with the airs of a joke, but a poorly hidden undercurrent of resentment. Potter’s teasing is more genuine, because he appreciates her more, but still. Her ‘best mates’ downplay and discourage one of her best talents. It pisses me off that she really only has me, Crooks, and Lovegood when she finds time to drop by. I may be selfish enough to want to keep her to myself, but she needs a chance to be social too._

_I know you’ll join that too-small group when you come home. Just be patient. She’ll like you if you let her._

_I think I’m gonna stop working at the bar soon. It’s been more of a distraction than anything, but I want to help Hermione with her research more. Be home more._

_How selfish does that make me?_

_I’ve babbled enough. How’s Paris? How are you? Have you decided when you’re coming home? Hermione and I can stay at her flat for a while so you can settle in, just give me some warning._

_Did you like your Christmas gifts?_

_-Theo_

Draco had been rereading and rolling his eyes at the letter for a few hours, trying to dissect the subtleties within. He was fairly certain Theo had been mostly blunt in an annoyingly Gryffindor sort of way that Draco was happy to blame on Granger, but the more he thought about it, the deeper he read into things.

He wondered if Theo realized just how quickly he'd fallen for Granger. Maybe it bothered him more than is should that Theo was thoroughly lost to him now, but it also bothered him that Theo was with _Granger_ of all people. The one woman who was supposed to be off limits to them both.

Being jealous of two people simultaneously didn't sit well with him, but it was a reality he found himself begrudgingly accepting. He was used to wanting things he couldn't have.

At least Theo was happy.

Irritation tensed the muscles in his shoulders uncomfortably as he reread what Theo had written about Hermione's...friend deficiency. He was pleased that she had grown away from Potter and Weasley for purely selfish reasons, but the fact that few of her other friends from school had kept in touch enough for Theo to notice.

_I think you two could be friends, if you can put our schooldays to the side long enough for her to warm up to you._

He frowned at the words. Cowardice had kept him in Paris, cowardice and worry that he wouldn't be able to handle being around the happy couple. But perhaps he could stomach it enough to help Granger realize she'd been missing out on the wonders of associating with members of polite society. If Theo was right and they did become friends, he could even find out more about her research project. Or help her with it.

Draco considered the mug in his hands as he stared at the note in his lap. Then his thoughts turned towards his bathroom and the black towel hanging on the back of the door, a towel that, like the mug, had a white silhouette of a ferret on it. He thought about the albino ferret stuffed toy beside his pillow on his bed, the 'It's a ferret thing...' t-shirt on his back, and the other one in his closet that matched his mug and bathtowel. He thought about his new keychain, about how he'd connected the two main metal rings so he could put his key to the flat he shared with Theo on the ring with the ferret charm without transferring _all_ of his keys over.

The pet care book on his bookshelf, however, he continued to ignore. It wasn't like he'd ever _get_ a ferret and he knew how to take care of himself _just fine_ , thanks. The urge to send it back, just the book of course, was tempting, but if he did that he'd put some sort of flirtatious note with it to be a dick and it wasn't likely that Theo would appreciate any of the snide comments coming to mind.

That didn't change the fact that Hermione Granger had bought him a small collection of cheeky, but practical gifts. Although he had tried several fabric softening charms in an attempt to make his other shirts and towels as comfortable presents. He'd given up quickly, deciding it was a waste of energy after thirty minutes of minimal results.

She'd bought him presents, she treated Theo well, and was apparently in need of more companions capable of keeping up with her intellect. Capable of appreciating it.

_I know you’ll join that too-small group when you come home. Just be patient. She’ll like you if you let her._

Draco wondered if Theo would grow to regret those words as he stood, stretched, and moved towards his bedroom. He needed to pack his things, including the small-ish assortment of otter-themed return gifts he'd collected since Christmas.

* * *

 

Theo was lounging in his living room with Hermione when the sound of a key sliding into the from door startled him. Only one other person aside from himself and Hermione _had_ a key, and that same person was also the only other person keyed to the wards.

“He didn’t say,” Theo began, jumping up just as the door opened. He’d forgotten that he’d never bothered to button his shirt up until that moment and Theo found himself staring at his ex-boyfriend, whom he hadn’t seen in _months,_ in jeans and an unbuttoned grey flannel shirt, with his _current_ girlfriend sitting at his feet.

Draco gave him a quick unimpressed once over. “Honestly. Of all the old habits to die hard, you choose to stick with not dressing yourself properly.”

“Hey, Draco, yes I’ve been well, it’s lovely of you to drop by _unannounced_. Tea’s on the stove. Fresh pot,” Theo threw back, raising a brow in challenge and not even pretending he was going to fix his shirt. “Welcome home, prick.”

Draco ignored him. “Hello, Granger. Long time no see.”

“Hullo,” she replied distractedly, scribbling away in one of her research journals. “How was Paris?”

“Dreary once it got cold. Ever been?” he asked.

“To wizarding Paris? No. Muggle Paris I’ve visited several times though. It’s a beautiful city.”

Theo watched Draco shrug. “All the wizarding side has to offer are floos and more robe shops than any sane person could ever need. There’s a few restaurants worth visiting, but for the most part, it’s not much different in my experience.”

“Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Draco Malfoy?” Theo asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

Draco shrugged again and unzipped the leather jacket Theo had bought him three years prior for Christmas. Theo gaped at the t-shirt he was wearing underneath, almost missing what Draco said next. “Like you said, I’ve been away quite some time. Good wine, food, and atmosphere are soul cleansing.”

“Good for you,” said Hermione earnestly. “Finding ways to cope and regain your footing can be difficult.”

Draco sighed in a somewhat mocking, somewhat sincere sort of way and said, “I’ve returned to Britain. The land where understatement is an art form. How lovely it is to be home. And Theo, do sit down. You’re supposed to stand when _she_ enters the room, not when _I_ do. Idiot.”

Draco vanished into his rooms before Theo could muster up a worthy response.

“Well,” he began.

“Draco’s back,” Hermione said, hoping she was sending his train of thought to the tracks it trying to escape from.

“So he is,” he muttered, sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor once again. He frowned. “That doesn’t make you uncomfortable, does it?”

She stopped scribbling long enough to lean over and kiss the side of his mouth. “Nope.”

Resisting the urge to correct her aiming issue with a return peck of his own, Theo said, “He’s wearing one of the ferret shirts.”

Hermione stared at him, lips twitching. “Bullshite.”

“Cross my heart,” he promised, grinning.

She picked up her tea, stifling her urge to giggle with a slow sip. Unbeknownst to, or unacknowledged by, Hermione, Theo had added a collection of song lyrics to the enchantments on her coffee mug. It had been a purely selfish decision and a byproduct of his ever-increasing knowledge of muggle culture, but it also meant he could better define different levels of which they could mutually care for one another that the cup would display to him.

Any lingering surprise or anxiety Draco’s appearance had caused faded as the words swirled to life under her fingers and Theo smiled.

_Let's waste time chasing cars…_

Draco had survived his school years, a war, and the aftermath. He’d cursed, been cursed, and healed his wounds. He’d been on both ends of the Cruciatus, nearly lost his parents, and picked himself up after his relationship with Theo fell to pieces. But none of that compared to his first month back in London.

He was angry every time Theo’s fingers tangled into the curls both men had longed to toy with since sixth year. He was angry every time Theo offered up his hoodie for Granger to all but drown in. He was angry every time Theo made her laugh, smile, and sigh. He was angry every time Theo did things he and Draco had admitted they wanted with the witch, even when they’d been exploring each other and realizing they’d have to settle for something tangible, assuming that their mutual object of affection was out of reach.

Only she wasn’t so out of reach anymore.

Draco was angry every time Hermione toyed with the hairs at the nape of Theo’s neck. He was angry every time she burrowed into his side. He was angry every time she threw him seductive smiles laden with promises he could almost taste in the air. He was angry that she had what was once his.

He was jealous.

But he was also happy. Happy, if only because _they_ made each other happy. He hadn’t seen Theo so relaxed since before the war and he hadn’t seen Hermione _at all_ since the final battle, and she hadn’t been very chipper then. (Granted, she was also about to enter an unfulfilling relationship with _Weasley_ of all people, so maybe she knew, subconsciously, that it would be a while before her life was worth smiling about again.) It was because they were so sickeningly, infuriatingly happy together that Draco kept his discontent hidden away.

That didn’t stop him from flirting with both of them at every opportunity, for his own fun and because it had, at first made them both varying degrees of uncomfortable. Hermione had ignored him in the beginning, but slowly seemed to start questioning how genuine he was, or what his motives were, because he occasionally got a thoughtful frown along with whatever sharp reply she’d come up with. Theo had been annoyed with him from the start, shooting him glares when Hermione wasn’t watching, telling him to bugger off, or ignoring him entirely, but Draco knew Theo better than Theo would’ve liked. Theo might be happy with Granger, happier than he’d ever be with anyone else, but Theo still loved him and was perceptive enough to know Draco’s feelings hadn’t gone anywhere either.

Granger was the outlier. Draco didn’t want to believe he wasn’t imagining very well concealed appreciation in her eyes when he decided to annoy Theo by wearing an almost-too small Quidditch jersey from school around the flat. He didn’t dare believe he’d caused any of the blushes to tint her cheeks while in her presence. He didn’t dare compare the smiles she gave Theo to the one’s Draco sometimes earned lest he find them too similar and start making assumptions that would end up destroying him.

He’d flirt and sulk in private until he made peace with the situation, hoping that maybe by the time Theo proposed Draco would have the capacity to be properly happy for them.

Theo scrubbed his face with his towel before roughly rubbing it over his hair as well. Hermione was a few paces ahead of him, already slipping into something snowy white, lacy, mouthwatering, and _new_. He hummed appreciatively as she slipped her arms into the matching sheer ‘coat’ with the lace pattern reappearing on the hems of her sleeves and slipped into loose fitting pajama bottoms he didn’t plan to wear long.

“What’s the occasion?” He asked as he came up behind her and buried his face against her neck. She smelled like water and citrus bodywash and vanilla. “Not that I’m complaining, quite the opposite in fact.”

“Mutual incentive to have an uncomfortable but necessary conversation?” She said quietly, her gaze hesitant when she turned to peak at him. “Not that I want to, but…”

Theo stilled and tightened his hold around her reflexively. “Draco?”

She nodded and looked away.

“I’m with you,” Theo managed to say despite his voice trying to fail him. “I’d never do what Weasley did to you, Hermione, no matter what the circumstances are, you _know_ that.”

“Neither would I,” she said softly.

It was when he realized there was a tremor in her voice that he understood and gently turned her around to face him. He kissed her once, hard, before resting his forehead against hers. “He’s been subtle,” Theo murmured, “But I know him too well. Or maybe I’m foolishly optimistic and seeing things, but he still wants you, pretty witch mine.”

“He wants you too,” she said.

Theo hummed again and pressed his nose against hers. “And we both want him, to some degree…”

She frowned, but nodded. “Shouldn’t one of us be upset about that? If not both of us.”

Theo shrugged. “If I can love more than one person as a friend, who’s to say I can love more than one person more intimately? Sure, it’s not exactly mainstream, but…I’m not opposed to it if you aren’t.”

“I don’t think I’m opposed,” she muttered. “Not that I have any idea what we’re getting ourselves into, assuming he’s…also inclined?”

He kissed her cheek and slowly made his way to her jaw. “Well, we could be very cruel and force his hand, so to speak.”

Hermione sighed quietly when he continued from her jaw to her shoulders. “How so?”

“A little extra PDA,” Theo suggested. “Enough to make him either get his knickers in a twist and yell at us or be inclined to…have any other slew of not negative reactions.”

“And if he doesn’t interrupt us?” She asked, her voice getting breathier as Theo continued exploring the familiar landscape of her skin, pausing only to lightly run his teeth across the lace against the swell of her breast.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, glittering with mischief and his obvious desire to transition into a different segment of their evening. “Then why would we be inclined to stop?”

Her cheeks flushed, but she smiled at him despite her hesitance. “We’re not very nice.”

Theo hummed low in his throat as he tugged at the lace with his teeth and slid the lace higher as he dragged his fingers up her thighs. “Neither is he.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone and thanks for reading :)


End file.
